In for the Kill
by FiresAtMidnight
Summary: While Ginvra Weasley herself may not clearly remember the events of The Chamber of Secrets, her unconscious mind haunts her, in her dreams with visions of that event. Complete


In for the Kill  
  
by Fires at Midnight  
  
A one shot glimpse into the world of torment that exists within Ginevra Weasley's mind and her dreams.   
  
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Harry Potter, In for the Kill by Skin Dive, or the Golem's Song. The story below is mine and mine alone.

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can i move from my call?   
  
cautious looks say it all   
  
cold control to impress   
  
fate takes control of my moves for the rest   
  
one more blink of an eye...   
  
-SkinDive: in for the kill  
  
Ginevra Weasley tossed and turned, her body thrashing wildly against her small bed, her sheets twisting tighter and tighter about her legs. Her mind tortured.   
  
Tom, oh Tom! How could he have betrayed her and left her to die. Why Tom! Why! Demanded her mind, attempting to sort out the confusion that it had burried deep within it her first year.   
  
Ginevra Weasley was no longer that frightened first year girl that had hidden herself away in bathrooms bawling her eyes out into a diary slipped to her by Lucias Malfoy.   
  
Ginevra Weasley was not the heir of Slytherin hidden out in the open in the house of Gryffindor.  
  
Yet, somewhere inside, she was still the lost little girl that faced Tom by herself in the chamber, with no hope of freedom or escape. She, the heir of Slytherin had attempted to destroy Tom with every ounce of strength she possessed only to fail, all because she had loved him.  
  
Why Tom? Why?  
  
In her dreams she is haunted by Tom Riddle, Voldemorte's young self. In her dreams she is haunted by those that she had nearly destroyed while she sought the comfort of a mad man.   
  
And in her dreams she begged and pleaded with Tom to come back for her as he had once been. As her friend. As her confidant, as the man she had fallen in love with.  
  
But instead, in her dreams, she always was left lost, sitting in the chamber, hugging her knees to her chest, still a little girl. A first year with a heart of gold and the body of an innocent who had survived the darkness that was threatening to destroy the wizarding world. And there, she would sing to herself the Gollum's song, and her soft voice would float about her room as tears slipped from her eyes that were squeezed shut trying to block out Tom's deeds.  
  
And how Tom marveled at her beautiful little voice as she sang for him like a song bird, only for his entertainment.  
  
"Where once was light now darkness falls. Where once was love, lLove is no more. Don't say goodbye, don't say I didn't try."  
  
"Louder Ginevra! Make them hear you! Make them know what they have done to you!"   
  
He would taunt her from the shadows as the basilisk coiled around her, warming her chilled body. And how she would grow! She would change from that girl, the innocent. She would be awkward, her limbs knobby of puberty, her body beginning to blossom.   
  
"These tears we cry are falling rain, for all the lies you told us, the hurt, the blame!" The words would come weaker though as she sensed the basilisk around her. While it did not pose a threat to her in Tom's presence, and it did not frighten her, it actually offered her comfort. She lay her head against the side of the massive serpent, her sweet voice crying out and piercing the chamber, echoing back to her. "And we will weep to be so alone. We are lost, we can never go home."  
  
"That's right Ginevra, you can never go home, you can never be one of them again. You can not ignore who and what you are! You must not forget all you have done!"  
  
And still she would sing for him, her voice changing, no longer that of a little girl, but of a woman come into her adulthood too soon, growing, blossoming much to quickly into a grown body. Louder, more confident, and still forlorn she would sing. Her arms clutching the basilisk as though it offered her her only comfort she sang on: "So in the end I'll be what I will be. No loyal friend was ever there for me."   
  
Tom too would begin to age, as Harry, Ron and Hermione appeared in the chamber between them. He would show her in the span of moments as she sang how they had betrayed her. They were never there for her when she was hurt or scared, but oh how quickly they would come to rescue her only after it was too late.  
  
"Now we say goodbye, we say you didn't try." They would sing to her over her own voice. They would kill the basilisk, her only remaining source of comfort and come toward her, their swords and wands both drawn.   
  
In anger she would rise to her feet, drawing her wand, and Tom would appear behind her, no longer Tom, but the aged, decaying form of the Dark Lord, Voldemorte. Her voice would carry stronger as she looked from the basilisk to her brother and his friends. They were supposed to be her friends! They should have saved her from Tom before he'd turned on her!  
  
She would watch in stony silence as they would advance toward her, Ron sobbing, Harry and Hermione reaching for her. Telling her how they loved her. Telling her how they needed her to be strong and fight back. Pleading, begging for her to come back to them, and she would feel hate and rage pour through her soul as the light and joy seeped from her body and into the cold stone beneath her feet.  
  
Voldemorte's hands would close over her arms, and she let out a hiss of pain as she was burned. She looked down at herself, her body, grown into a woman, and the dark mark, angry and bleeding on her forearm, branding her with the darkness forever.  
  
She would step away from the man she had loved who had become the Lord of her Dreams. "These tears you cry have come too late." Her voice would boom over them. "Take back the lies! The hurt, the blame!"  
  
She would stand still as her brother rushed forward to save her only to thrust her sword forward into his gut, twist, and smile at him with the gleam of insanity in her eyes. Putting her weight into the blade she would thrust down and then pull up and out. The sword the only thing holding the youngest Weasley boy up no longer supporting his weight, he would fall lifeless to the stone floor, his blood flowing toward her Lord behind her.  
  
"Ginny no!" Hermione would scream and rush forward to Ron's side, sobbing. In a swift motion, possessing the grace of a feline, Ginny would spin around once, cleanly beheading her brother's love and stand before Harry Potter.  
  
"And you will weep when you face the end alone."   
  
"Your are lost." Harry would sob softly, moving into a defensive stance.  
  
"You can never go home." She would whisper back to him.  
  
"You are lost." Harry would sob again, steeling himself against her.  
  
"You can never go home." The Dark Lord would declare, with a wave of his arm he would send both Ginevra and Harry flying into the statue of Salazar Slytherin.  
  
"Tom." She would whimper, reaching out for him. "Why?"  
  
Even in her dreams she never got her answers. He would hover closer, and once again, Ginevra Weasley was that same first year girl, sobbing in fright as Voldemorte stood over her and Harry.   
  
"No! Not Harry Tom! Please! Anyone but Harry! I've served you well Tom, I've done nothing but love you, and nothing but what you have asked! Please not Harry!" She sobbed brokenly.  
  
Drawing his wand Voldemorte stood firmly upon the ground, laughing at her. "And you will see what doubt and betrayal offers you, my young Death Eater."  
  
"No!" She would fight against him, but unable to move she would watch as the Lord placed the tip of his wand over Harry's heart. "Avada kedavra!"  
  
The Boy-Who-Lived screamed as a green light burst forth from the tip of her wand, only to ricochet off of him and land squarely upon it's caster.  
  
Harry screamed in denial as he fell in almost slow motion with her, catching her in his arms sobbing her name. "No! No! Ginny no!"  
  
"We are lost, we can never go home." She whispered as her eyes glazed over.

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Reviews both good and bad are more than welcome, even flames that are creatively written! Such things may inspire me to keep writing. 


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